The Flowery Buds of Canada
by I am the Cake Fairy
Summary: A spoof of the original Harry Potter books, brought to you courteously by Elflette and Clem, a collaboration of idiotic proportions.  The adventure of Larry Plotter, John Weasel, Hermoninny Grater, and SheWhoMustNotBeSpokenTo.


**The Flowery Buds Of Canada**

_Cast of Characters:  
Larry Plotter, She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Spoken-To, John Weasels, Hermoniny Grater, Plato Malfley, Alfred Humblespore, and The Dursloy Family_

**Chapter Uno**

"Larry! Oh Larry!" Mrs. Dursloy, a chunky yet tall freakishly ostridge-like woman with dirty-blond (literally) hair tied up in a hasty ponytail, cried, rapping excitedly on the attic door. "We're going to the museum!" Larry woke up, suddenly alert. His bright red hair was a tangled up mess, as it always was when he woke up in the morning; he blinked his hazy gray eyes blearily and flared his tiny nostrils, all part of the daily morning activities. "And you're not invited!" Mrs. Dursloy continued. Larry's long face fell. "But we're bringing you anyways!" Larry's face lit up again. "To carry all the heavy stuff!" Mrs. Dursloy finished. Larry fell down, dead. Not really, it's a figure of speech; a metaphor, kind of.

Ten minutes later, Larry was running down the stairs, dressed in rags and a pillow case. Okay, that's a figure of speech, too, it's just that his clothes were really big on him. Puddly, who was sitting at the kitchen table, gracefully stuffing his face to its full extent with various types of unknown puddings, looked up at Larry and grinned cheerfully.

"Mummy! Daddy! There's an idiot in our kitchen!" he cried in ecstasy. Larry stuck his tongue out at his cousin.

"Stop talking about yourself like that!" Larry retorted wittily. At that, Puddly jumped out of his seat and started wildly attacking Larry with his abnormally colored purple fists. Mr. Dursloy decided at that moment to enter the room, his timing as impeccable as always.

"Go, Puddly, go!" the obese, untidy excuse for a human-like being who calls himself Mr. Dursloy cried, cheering on the rather fat purple boy.

When she heard the loud cheers and jesters of her husband, Mrs. Dursloy sauntered into the kitchen like a squirrel would saunter into a nuthouse. That, my friends, is a very accurate description, as Mrs. Dursloy herself should be in a nuthouse this very minute, if she wasn't so sure that she was perfectly sane.

"Now, boys," she scolded. "All of you. Let's stop this nonsense. We can beat on Larry when we get home, but for now, we have somewhere to be." With that Larry, Pudley, and Mr. Dursloy trudged into the 1978 Minivan. It was a family heirloom.

When they arrived at the museum, after a long and tiring argument of whether or not Larry should be fed for the next month, despite all of the poor boy's pleas, it was decided that the family would feed Larry only every other week, and Larry was distressed. They all walked into the museum, but when arriving at the fun house mirrors, Larry made a break for it. He ran all the way past the mirrors, past the Attila the Hun attraction, and passed the ancient artifacts for early American civilizations, but Larry stopped abruptly when he got to the petting zoo. There, he saw a llama. He sprinted too it, which spooked the llama who spit gooey green slime in Larry's eye. This disappointed Larry. As it was in his eye, he couldn't eat it, which was unsatisfactory as he wouldn't be eating anything else for at least a week.

"Why did you spit in my eye?" he asked the llama, placing his hands on his hips in a very girlish manner. The llama gave him a look.

"Foo, who said you could talk to me, the all great Leroy!" the llama, who was now known as Leroy, demanded, holding his head high with an air of superiority.

"Well, I didn't know I could talk to you," Larry reasoned reasonably. He paused. "Can I ride on your back out of the petting zoo with a great stampede of animals trailing behind us?" Larry asked the great Leroy bravely/ nervously.

Leroy, after shrugging as much as a llama could, slapped Larry with one hoof, looked appalled, and replied, "Why yes, you certainly can."

Larry, rubbing his cheek, which now had a great hoof mark on it, shrugged, and jumped on Leroy's back. "Follow me, you stupid animals," Leroy shouted, and with that, the majestic llama and the young rider stampeded out of the petting zoo, leaving small children wailing in misery in their wake.

The boy and the llama, quite the unlikely pair, rode into the depths of the forest, which happened to be right next to the museum because anything can happen. At least that's what my mother always told me. But yeah.

They arrived at their destination which was the middle of the forest, and they stopped for a drink of water because there was a stream right where they stopped because anything can happen. Suddenly, out of the tree tops, flew a rabbit. Yes, it just dropped out of thin air, and Larry suddenly felt a vibration in his pocket. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper airplane. He unfolded it and there was a note. It read: 'By now, a rabbit will have fallen out of thin air. This symbolizes that you are destined to be the greatest wizard of all time. Which is why on July the First, you must go to the Queen's Point Train station, go to platform 13 and 4/5, get on the 12 o'clock train, and arrive at aproximately the arriving time. That is all.'

Larry was befuddled. Today was June the 30th, meaning that he was destined to become the greatest wizard of all time tomorrow. He was surely in a pickle. But he liked pickles, so that was okay.

**Chapter Deux**

The next day found Larry, toting with him a small backpack (with nothing in it, and therefore pointless in the story), arriving at the Queen's Point Train Station at approximately 11:30, because it never hurts to be early. Unless you are charred to death by some fire-breathing carnivorous bird who dislikes early birds, pardon the pun. Or if you are being held at gunpoint by some freak who says that if you pay the ransom for your beloved dog Ralphie even one millisecond early, he will shoot your head off. Because then it would hurt to be early. In fact, it would hurt a lot.

He swiveled his head from side to side, searching for the ever elusive platform 13 and 4/5, for it was a master at disguise. It would change its bricks to fit into any environment. If it were in a rainforest, its bricks would be wooden and a nice shade of moldy green. If it were in an ocean, its bricks would be decorated stunningly in seashells, mermaids frolicking gaily about it, having nothing better to do than act stupid.

Anyways.

Larry was in the process of holding a costumer service consultant from the train station against a wall by a neck because he could not tell him where platform 13 and 4/5 was, when he saw a flash of bright blue hair. He immediately let go of the consultant (who painfully fell to the ground) and went to look for the boy with the blue hair for he had and odd sense that this boy might just be a wizard like himself. But what he found was not one boy with blue hair, but a whole blue-haired family. Larry noticed that the boy who looked the oldest was jumping up and down, stomping on a spider. However, as Larry came closer, he noticed that it was not a spider the boy was jumping on, but a tile. Larry blinked, and next thing he knew, the boy was gone. Larry was inspired. He ran as hard as he could to the tile that the whole blue family was gathered around. Angrily pushing everybody out of his way, he came to the tile and shoved the blue-haired family out of close proximity. He jumped on the tile, and next thing he knew, he was in a whole separate room, but there was something unpleasant. He was being held up on a wall by his neck, and there were three or four blue-haired boys around him, doing the holding-upon-the-wall.

"H-h-hello…" Larry stammered nervously, but the boys just grinned wildly and let him go.

"Yeller" the oldest looking boy said cheerfully. "My name is Perly Weasel, and these are my brothers, Freb and Porridge—they are twins—and John. John is your age I think. At least, it looks like it. Well, you all should hop onto that train now. It's about to leave!" And with that, the five of them boarded the train. John and Larry found a compartment together and sat there in silence. After a moment a very sexy girl with long, perfectly manageable dirty blond (not literally this time) hair, a strapless shirt and skintight jeans walked into the compartment and sat down. The three of them sat in silence until John spoke.

"I molest gummi bears with my tongue." He said boldly, proudly sticking out his chest, as if to prove his masculinity (though how, it is questionable: sticking out one's chest only makes it look as if one's cup size is accentuated).

"Well, I disagree," Larry argued, after pausing for a brief moment to debate within himself the sanity of the male in the seat adjacent to himself. "Last time, I checked, it was the gummi bears who do the molesting…"

"Well, I am a sexual predator to gummi bears everywhere."

"Well, I bet the gummi bears could out-molest you any day!"

"…your mom!" John replied, having run out of witty comebacks; what the poor boy lacked in brain power, he made up for in…something else that did not involve brain power. Like football! Or something…

"MY MOM IS DEAD! I'M LARRY PLOTTER!" Larry yelled, a teen-angst moment threatening to occur. John briefly wondered if he should shout out his own name as well, for introduction purposes, but decided against it.

"…oh…blimey…can I see the duck-shaped scar behind your right ear?" he asked, his face lit up in child-like curiosity (it was sickening).

"Yes, but make that girl beside you look away; it's private. Who is she anyways?"

"I'm Hermoninny," she replied cheerfully, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and pushing out her chest (in a certainly un-masculine-like way) to accentuate…herself. "And this strapless bra is annoying—I keep having to pull it up," she finished, giving a demonstrative tug at the underwire-evilness.

"That's a shame, I wish I could help," Larry replied dreamily, gazing at the…area…the bra was supposedly in. Then he noticed John's horrified Glare (which was glare-ful enough to earn itself a capitalization), and quickly shouted for all to hear, "I MEAN I WISH THIS WERE NOT SUCH A PROBLEM FOR YOU."

John's glare eased. Man, that boy seemed over-protective of some random person who just sauntered into their train compartment.

"Oh, no feel free to help," she said, but then noticed the horrified Glare (copyrighted) directed at her from John and hastily corrected herself, "I MEAN OMG YOU PERVERT!"

"Such flattery can be taken the wrong way, my sweet," Larry replied in a very suave voice. John decided it was time to intervene.

"…I want chocolate. We should get chocolate. Let's get chocolate, okay?" he rambled nervously.

Larry wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at John. "Why have chocolate when you could have Herm—"

"CHOCOLATE!" John yelled, his face nearly as red as an over-ripe tomato who forgot to put sunscreen on during the neighborhood's Fourth of July celebration and ended up with a massive sunburn rivaling in size to the Tibetan Plateau (unless there is no Tibetan Plateau; then Tibetan Plateau will be replaced with China). Nearly. Not quite.

At this time there was a knock on the door of the compartment (being the all so literal example of "Saved by the Bell" except the bell is really a knock in this case.) and the food lady walked in. "Would you like some food dearies?" She asked kindly. At this, Larry realized that he had not eaten since breakfast of the past day and was suddenly hungry. He jumped up and knocked over the food lady, overturning the cart of food she was pushing in the process. Food spilled all into the compartment. Larry excitedly threw some money at the food lady and sent her on her way with an empty cart. The threesome feasted until they arrived at their appointed destination at approximately the arrival time.

As everyone unboarded the train, there was a loud roar. It was a large man coming up the sidewalk. He was huge, like a giant. He was even larger than the entire Dursloy family. As the large mass of students came forward, the big man bellowed "Heller. My name is Fagrid." At this, a handful of students in the small crowd snickered. One boy with bright bleached hair and a couple of goonies surrounding him snickered the loudest. Larry scowled at the boy who scowled back even nastier. Larry walked over bravely and socked him in the face. Everyone started cheering and then the boy's goonies came and tried to fight Larry but he fought them off with one hand because he was just so super macho. Not really. This is all just what Larry was imagining. All that happened was the scowling. But that's it. So yeah. And then a shower of deadly hard bricks (but not camouflaged bricks, just regular ones) came flying through the air and hit each kid who had laughed at Fagrid (snicker snicker…OW!)'s name got hit and especially Plato (the boy with the bleached hair) because he's a butt. Really, he is.

But anyways, Fagrid continued. "I will be your gamekeeper and teacher. I teach about the magical animals and how and why they will try and bite your heads off. So be careful." At this he lost everyone's attention so he bellowed "ALL RIGHT NOW! Let's go. We need to get to the castle where you will be staying in at least an hour!" and with this Fagrid and the students hiked up a hill, through a forest, over a mountain, down a valley, over a mountain, and through a lake. When they emerged from the lake, dripping wet, a kid suddenly yelled "HEY! We're right back where we started!"

"So we are," Fagrid agreed. "I took a right past the valley when I should have taken a left. Oh well. Let's go again!" And despite the moans and pleas from the students, off they trudged. And eventually, they did arrive at the castle.

Well, where the castle should have been.

Because standing in its place was a giant…building. It struck fear into the hearts of all the students. Several gasped in terror and a few fainted into the arms of their friends, who promptly dropped them to the ground. Now, under normal circumstances, buildings are not normally this terrifying. Understandably, a jail, or perhaps an American middle school could be terrifying, but the building was neither. Yet, it was still far more frightening than any normal building should be, for it was…

A large roller disco.

**Chapter Drei**

Suddenly, a skinny old man, whose bright lilac beard reached to about his bony old knees, and whose equally lilac-shaded hair came down to his buttocks, bounded cheerfully up to the mass of students and Fagrid (tee-hee…ow!).

"My apologies, children!" the old man roared. Larry wondered why such a feeble, senile, decrepit old man was at this so called school. "I am Alfred Humblespore, headmaster of this school, which happens to be Pigzits, school of Wizardcraft and Witchery." Oh…that's why. "Please pay no attention to the building before you—" he gestured at the roller disco, "—for it was turned into such by very evil gnomes under the employment of She-Who-Must-not-Be-Spoken-To." A chorus of gasps erupted from the student body. Larry looked confused.

"She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Spoken-To?" Larry repeated, tilting his head to the side like a cute little puppy dog (however, this action only made him look stupider; the look only works for puppies). "Isn't she the jolly fellow who killed my parents?"

Humblespore looked sternly at Larry who cowered under his glare (which was almost as good as John's but not quite because it doesn't earn a capitalization). "No." Humblespore said. "Your parents were killed in a car crash."

"You liar!" Larry cried. "My parents were hippies!! They hated cars! They didn't even own a car!"

"Okay, you win." Humblespore said. "Yes, She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Spoken-To did kill your parents, but the way I see it, we should not fear her name because fear of a name only increases fear of the person whose name it is or something like that. I prefer to call her by her real name."

"So, what is it?" Larry questioned, proud that he had used such sensible logic to find out how his parents had really died.

"LORD MOLDYWART!" Humblespore cried. Gasps filled the area.

"Lord?" Larry questioned. "But, isn't she a lady?"

"Yes, quite right," Humblespore agreed. "But she doesn't know it. Just go with me here, and call her Lord Moldywart, okay?" More gasps filled the area.

"But, why does everyone gasp when you say her name?" Larry questioned, practically interrogating the poor old man.

"Because people are idiots," Humblespore explained. "One night, 12 years ago, when you were only one year old, Lord Moldywart came to your doorstep, killed your parents, and dragged you out of the house by your right ear. You, however, refused to go anywhere with her, so she attempted to kill you, but the curse rebounded and all you were left with was a duck-shaped scar behind your right ear and Lord Moldywart went into secretive hiding because she's just a coward like that."

"But why did she want to kill me?" the boy asked.

"Because—" Humblespore began, but at that moment, a frail old lady with thin lips and who very much so lacked makeup came trotting up behind the headmaster.

"That is en_ough _Alfred," she cried. "He's only a boy. You can explain it when he gets older, but for now, you have a whole group of first-year children that are listening to all of the private explanations you are giving. So SHUT IT!"

The headmaster looked at his feet guiltily, then looked up and announced, "This, dear children, is Professor Mederna McDonaldor. She is the transforming teacher. She teaches you how to transform yourself, and other things, such as teaspoons."

"Well, that's good to know," interrupted the bleached-hair boy, Plato. "Just in case my teaspoon ever disfunctions, I can know exactly how to change it into a treadmill. Thank you _Professor._"

"Such rudeness shall not be tolerated!" shrieked McDonaldor. "Fifty points from Spitindor!"

"But wait, Mederna, the children have not even been sorted yet!"

"Oooh, yes I know, but I can just tell that this one will be a Spitindor. I can just tell…"

As McDonaldor trailed off, the students followed the headmaster into the building, which had magically been changed back into a castle. In the main hall, which wasn't really a hall but was called that anyway because…because, several other, older students were sitting around four different set of tables. The nearest of the tables, decked out in bright victorious colors such as red and gold, had the emblem of a fat eagle-like thing on a banner above the tables. Several of the blue-haired people from before at the train station were sitting at the red and gold table. John waved happily, but the twins (Freb and Porridge) just stuck their tongues out at their younger siblings.

The table to the right of the red and gold table, was blue and black, and had the image of a very angry-looking bluebird on the banner. The next table had pink and purple colors and a picture of a wolf on the banner. The last table, very malicious indeed, was green and silver and, oldly enough, had the image of a llama on the banner. It looked very much like Leroy indeed.

"Children!" Humblespore trilled, doing a little joy dance by the stage near the back of the room. Uncertain, the new students, including Larry, John, Hermoninny, and some weird kid who appeared to be suffering from withdrawal from Dora the Explorer (but no one cares, as it is not the writers'), made their way over to the stage, where a large piece of toast with huge eyes sat on a stool, babbling quietly to itself.

"Children!" Humblespore trilled once more before prancing over to the toast. "This is Larg! He will sort you into your HOUSES!" He inhaled deeply due to excitement, then exhaled. "YOU!" He pointed at a random quivering girl in the front of the mass. "You're up!"

Unsure of what to do, the girl walked forward and sat on a stool next to Larg's. "Hi my name is Larg and I like butter because it is good and I like it. Because it tastes like butter. You go in Griffinwhosits because you like butter good," Larg reasoned, and the girl was shuffled away to the red and gold table.

Larry was dumbfounded. "We get sorted by how much we like butter?" he demanded.

"Yes," Humblespore responded cheerfully.

"Okay then."

"YOU!" A boy this time was chosen to go next.

"Hi my name is Larg and I like butter because it is good and I like it. Because it tastes like butter. You go in Bluebirdbeak because you tolerate butter but you don't like it muches," Larg reasoned, and the boy was pushed away to the blue and black table. Humblespore pointed to another seemingly random boy and he was shoved forward.

"Hi my name is Larg and I like butter because it is good and I like it. Because it tastes like butter. You go in Huffinpuffinblowyerhousedown because you couldn't care if butter was real or not," Larg reasoned. This continued until the bleached-blond fellow who was very rude earlier was chosen to go next.

"OH MY GAWD, YOU BUTTER HATER!" Larg screamed, scooting away as far as possible from the boy (who was smirking evilly). "YOU GO IN SPITTERIN BECAUSE YOU HATE BUTTER, YOU BUTTER-HATING FIEND!" And so the boy, who was now known to the world as Plato Malfey, butter-hating fiend, was whisked away to the Spitterin table.

"You."

The whole room got quiet, and Larry noticed that Humblespore's finger was being pointed in his general direction. Larry stood up, realizing that the entire school was staring at him. Children muttered his name, and many people were whispering. Larry made his way up to the front of the hall, and sat down beside the piece of buttered toast.

"Hi my name is Larg and I like butter because it is good and—OOOOOH MY FLIPPIN' GOODNESS HAVE YOU NEVER TASTED BUTTER?!"

"Um…how did you know? Actually, I've never had toast either. Except for my cousin's burnt leftovers…."

"Okay, enough with the pity story. I get it. You've never tasted butter before. As evil a criminal act it is, I think we can work around it…WHAT THE HECK AM I SAYING??? HOW WILL I SORT YOU IF YOU HAVE NEVER TASTED BUTTER!? SOMEONE! NOW! GET THIS BOY SOME BUTTER!!!!"

Immediately, a short thing with pointy ears that will later become known as a house elf, came running up with butter. And Larry tried some. "I LOVE IT!!" he cried. And therefore, Larry, John, and Hermoninny all ended up in Griffinwhosits, and Plato Malfley and his goonies all ended up in Spitterin.

**Chapter Quattro**

After the house sorting was over, the children paraded to their dormitories, but on the way, they came upon a frightening sight: Lord Moldywart. With a flick of her wand and a flash of green light, Larry was dead. John yelled. Hermoninny shrieked. And with their yells, Lord Moldywart killed them, too. And Hermoninny's last words were "And I haven't even makeupetized…". John's last words were "what is makeupetizing?" And then Hermoninny said something else so that last time wasn't really her last words. This time is. And she said "You fool. I haven't put on my makeup." And then they were dead. The sad part is, we cannot tell you Larry's last words, as they were slightly profane.

**THE END**

**Epilogue:**

The kitchens were dark. Well no wonder, it was night time and no one really felt like paying the electric bill for leaving the lights on at night. However, a shadow was seen stalking through the room. How we were able to see a shadow in a dark room, we will never know, but it's for the plot, so shut up.

The refrigerator door was opened, spilling light into the deserted kitchen. And who did we see?

Was it Larry?

No, you fool, he's dead.

Was it Hermoninny?

No, you moron, she wouldn't be caught dead without her make up…no pun intended.

Was it that kid in the Great Hall (which wasn't even a hall at all) who suffered from Dora the Explorer withdrawal?

No, you buffoon, he's pointless in the plot.

Was it Plato Malfley?

No, you—wait, it was.

It was Plato Malfley, holding a plate of—what was that?!

It was butter!

"My precious," he cooed, stroking the butter lovingly before devouring it in one whole gulp.

Then he choked and died.

**NOW, THE END. FINALLY**.

* * *

_A collaboration between myself (Elflette) and my best friend (Clem). We are equally weird, so we thought, "Wow we're bored let's do something random." But what? "LET'S WRITE A HARRY POTTER SPOOF SINCE IT COMES OUT TONIGHT!" Cha!_

_ And thus we have the Flowery Buds of Canada._

_See if you can spot the difference between the writing styles :D. Yeah._

_ WE OWN NOTHING!!! KUKUKU!  
_


End file.
